


Second Go

by KyeAbove



Series: The Reinforcement Of Agony AU [34]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Light Angst, Past Character Death, Past Prostitution, Past Underage Sex, Sammy Lawrence Has ADHD, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 08:38:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16636577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyeAbove/pseuds/KyeAbove
Summary: May 15th, 1933. Cade Vale, New York. Agony:ConsumingChocolate will always be there for Sammy.





	Second Go

**Author's Note:**

> This story in the series goes into some heavy topics, although nothing is heavily detailed.

~May 15th, 1933~

* * *

 

The chocolate bar was sitting on his desk when he woke up. Sammy wasn’t sure when he’d fallen asleep, but one moment he’d been awake, if a little uneased, working on some stupid cartoon song, and then he’d woken up with his neck pained from the awkward position he’d slept in.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and the near-nightmare from his memories in all but fear and impressions, Sammy grabbed for the bar, to inspect it, and wonder it was even real. He noticed under the chocolate bar, there was a note, which he also grabbed.

_Sammy. I think you need this more than I do. Sorry it’s a little melted. Love, Wally._

Looking at the chocolate bar, Sammy smiled. He loved Wally too. Very much. Like another son. Wally could be a little scattered, but Sammy always knew he cared. There was even a cup of coffee off on the other side of him, he realized too. Still warm, when he touched the cup.

This loving feeling was a little mixed, a little trampled by the emotions and the lingering memories of the bad dream he’d had. But that was alright. Sammy was used to waking up sad. He didn’t have many good dreams.

On top of that, he looked down to see that he’d drooled all over the papers he’d been writing his compositions on. Work, ruined. Annoyed at himself, Sammy grabbed the cup of coffee, and drank it all at once. To bring his mind out of sleep, and bring him to work.

It didn’t help. His mind kept backtracking onto the dream. **_He didn’t like doing this, but he had had to. He had to!_ ** and in a rage, Sammy crumpled up the ruined papers and tossed it into his trash can. Then he tore through the chocolate bar wrapper with his teeth, releasing the chocolate within.

The chocolate helped, if only a little. From the moment he tasted it, it felt like heaven. Heaven as he was thinking of Hell.

Despite how his memory failed him sometimes, able to remember music compositions he’d written as a child, but not his own birth date, Sammy remembered every detail of the first time he…

Sammy took another bite of the chocolate, letting it melt down his throat, hoping it’d dispel the lump growing there. It didn’t.

He’d only been ten years old when his parents had died. It was suddenly up to him to be a parent. They had no other family. Some of the adults in town took pity when he was younger, pushing food and money his way so he could feed his even younger siblings. Johnny was six years old when Sammy was ten, and already devious, stealing from places and people when he saw his chance. Rosa was four at the time, cute enough to con a little bit of food and candy sometimes. Adora wasn’t even a year old, and once someone bought her a new dress when she outgrew her last one.

Only for so many years did they receive charity and blind eyes, and then they started being looked down upon and rejected. So, with no other future, Sammy did everything he could for his family. Everything…

The first time it happened, a man he’d been doing a job for offered up extra payment if Sammy was willing to do something _extra_. He’d been fifteen. Then it became a habit to ask him, ask anyone who looked like they could give him something in return for the utter shame of it all. Two years of it all. All so he could afford to feed his siblings more practical scraps. Still, better than nothing at all.

Better? Better than the terrible dreams he had even decades later?

A respite from his mood. A knock on his door. A distraction. For once, Sammy was grateful for it.

Sammy rose from his chair, wondering how much a mess he looked, but he went to open the door for his distraction without worry of being judged.

Henry was there, pencil behind his ear, a folder of drawings tucked in his arm. His hair was stuck up in every direction, a consequence of running his fingers through his hair at every troubling or complicated thought. Henry was smiling into his words.

“I’m not interrupting anything important am I?”

“No, No. I was just about to start something new. Come in.” Which Henry did. Henry had been hiding in Sammy’s office when he wanted some more peace and quiet. Sammy’s fidgeting and foot tappings and other odd sounds were nothing compared to some of the noise that could go down in the Art Department upstairs.

Henry made himself comfortable on the floor, spreading his work around him. Sammy was grateful. Henry was a welcomed distraction. Always.

It helped. Having someone in the room with him helped. Or maybe it was just having Henry. Sammy’s worries disappeared, and his misery buried itself again. Sammy still had the chocolate bar in his hand.

When he took another bite, it tasted somehow sweeter.


End file.
